


Champagne Hands

by purple_bookcover



Category: A Charm of Magpies Series - K. J. Charles
Genre: Anal Sex, Fingers in Mouth, Hand Job, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, champagne hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Stephen and Crane are on the train back to London. They have all the time in the world at last and Crane wants to find outeverythingthose champagne hands are capable of.
Relationships: Stephen Day/Lucien Vaudrey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Champagne Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This scene takes place at the end of [The Magpie Lord](https://www.amazon.com/Magpie-Lord-Charm-Magpies-Book-ebook/dp/B077J1BL2T/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=the+magpie+lord&qid=1601515510&sr=8-1) book 1, but before the events of book 2. If you haven't read the book, go do it! It's good! I just wanted some extra smut.

“And Merrick,” Crane said, “do take your time.”

Merrick leveled a withering look at his lord, one Crane couldn’t possibly misinterpret, before bowing out of the train cart. 

The moment Merrick left, Crane surged into action. 

Perhaps he should have been more dignified as he locked the door and threw all the curtains shut. Perhaps it was breaking the illusion of control and dominance he wanted so badly to establish. But when he swung around and saw Day sitting there, nearly panting as he waited for Crane, all his careful control broken at last, Crane couldn’t bring himself to care about illusions. 

He swept to Day, sitting right in his lap as he pinned him against the wall with a smoldering kiss. Stephen murmured against his mouth, a moan and a protest, it seemed, but Crane didn’t stop. Not until he’d had his fill. 

Finally, Stephen shoved him back and drew in a shuddering breath.

“As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm,” Stephen said, “you’re heavy.” 

Crane supposed he was, especially compared to the thin man sitting beneath him. He leapt back, but that placed him standing before Stephen, braced against the wall with one hand, looming. 

It also placed his crotch right at mouth-height, a fact he realized when Stephen smiled that foxy little grin of his. 

Stephen reached forward, playing along the band of Crane’s trousers. Every so often, his deft little fingers would slip beneath the fabric, find some gap between shirt and trouser, and then champagne bubbled against Crane’s skin, brief little bursts of tickling brightness. 

“You said you wanted to feel my hands,” Stephen said, voice silky and quiet with promise. “Feel them everywhere.” 

Crane swallowed. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one in control here? Yet he could not find the breath to speak as Stephen’s fingers grew bolder, finding more bare, unprotected skin to tease. 

Stephen untucked Crane’s shirt entirely, pushing it up to kiss at the skin from hip to hip. His lips were warm and gentle, but already Crane suspected his hands would not be. The moment Stephen’s fingers grazed that tenuous, taut skin, Crane sucked in a startled breath. Stephen drew back.

“Keep going,” Crane rasped. 

The foxy grin turned wolfish. “As you wish,” Stephen said, “my lord.”

Crane twitched at that. His trousers were becoming more uncomfortable by the moment, but every look from Stephen, every brush of his lips, every touch from those champagne hands just made it worse. And Crane couldn’t honestly say he wanted it to stop. 

Stephen placed just his fingertips on Crane’s skin, then dragged them up. A tingling sensation followed, sharp but mellow, for now. Still, it set Crane’s body alight, like Stephen had stoked some magic-induced fire within him. Crane shivered under that light, deliberate touch. God, Stephen knew exactly what he was doing, didn’t he, the little minx? Stephen could _feel_ it, not just from the reaction within his own body, but also from the sharpening crackles in Stephen’s hands, tangible evidence of his increasing excitement. 

Yet he was moving so damnably slow. Stephen’s fingertips were still just grazing Crane’s torso, glancing over his abs and back down toward his hips. Was Stephen being teasing or over-cautious? Crane remembered that little remark back in the carriage. “It might hurt.” 

He didn’t care.

He grabbed Stephen’s wrist, forcing his hand lower. Those tawny gold eyes flashed up to meet him. 

“Get on with it,” Crane rasped, incapable of keeping the tension, the need, out of his voice.

Stephen just smirked, the bastard. “So impatient. We have quite a long ride ahead of us. There’s no need to rush.” 

There was a need, though. A damn good need. And it was straining against Crane’s trousers. 

Despite his teasing, Stephen’s hand wandered lower, rubbing over that desperate bulge. Crane gasped. Even through the fabric, he felt tingles and pops, sometimes sharp crackles. He flinched, but when Stephen tried to jerk away, Crane held his wrist and kept him close. 

“It’s not too much?” Stephen said, an uncharacteristic hint of uncertainty tightening his voice. 

Crane didn’t bother with words. He leaned down, pinning Stephen against his seat with a kiss. To his credit, Stephen kept his hand where it was, rubbing harder over Crane’s pants. Crane could feel the effect of that kiss ripple through Stephen, all the way to his hand, where the tingles and crackles and snaps got brighter and sharper. 

He drew back, taking Stephen’s other hand in his mouth. He needed to feel this everywhere. 

He sucked on Stephen’s fingers, crackles sparking against lips and tongue. The sensation shivered down his throat and into his gut, meeting the snaps and cracks at his crotch, combining into something that made Crane moan. 

The sound seemed to spur Stephen on; the sizzle in his fingers intensified. Crane’s mouth filled with buzzing, everything burning and trembling within him. The roof of his mouth sent sparks shooting upward. His eyes watered even as he sucked harder on Stephen fingers.

It still wasn’t enough. He popped Stephen’s fingers out of his mouth and started tearing at his own trousers, the barrier of fabric too outrageous to endure for another instant.

“I’ll do it,” Stephen said. 

He guided Crane’s trousers down, exposing him in the train cart. He didn’t immediately go back in with those hands, leaving them on Crane’s thighs as he took him in his mouth instead. As Stephen’s lips glided down Crane’s cock, his hands tingled on Crane’s thighs, trickling higher, champagne spilling in reverse. 

Crane nearly missed it when Stephen’s fingers reached the space between thigh and crotch. His mouth was doing a fine job of distraction until those sparks snapped hot and sharp on sensitive skin. 

Crane gasped. Thankfully, this time Stephen took it for excitement. He dragged his mouth off Crane’s cock with agonizing slowness. Tawny eyes flashed up, glinting gold with mischief in the instant before Stephen’s hand finally stroked down his cock. 

The gasp turned into a disgraceful yelp. Stephen just smirked. Crane attempted to glare, but it was impossible with those champagne bubbles sparking along his length. It was sharp and biting in places, and yet impossibly, infuriatingly sweet, the pleasure as bright as the pain. Every pinch of magical power that made Crane clench his teeth and brace also sent him spiraling to some higher peak of bliss that he’d yet to fathom.

As Stephen’s hand made slow, deliberate progress up and down his length, Crane squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at anything that might steady him. He found the wall of the train cart with one hand and Stephen’s hair with the other. Stephen whimpered somewhere under him, but Crane hardly heard it. His whole world had narrowed to that hand on his cock, to the sizzling sensation in his dick, to the absurd bliss resounding up through his gut and into his chest. The bubbles didn’t stay in his crotch. They fizzled in his stomach now as well, loosened the tension and tightness in his chest, pushed their way out of his throat until he was panting and whining in a pitch he scarcely recognized. 

Then Stephen’s other hand worked its own mischief. One fingertip grazed Crane’s balls and his whole body jerked and shuddered. The pleasure was nearly overwhelming. Crane thought he might weep from it and only barely clutched at some thin thread of dignity. His legs trembled and threatened to collapse under him. His nails scratched at the wood of the train cart’s wall. It was impossible that whomever was in the next cart over didn’t hear his cry. 

Stephen released him.

Crane drew a shuddering breath. “Why in blazes did you stop?” He was panting, each syllable a hot puff. 

Stephen did not reply, not with words. He pushed up to stand, hands wandering idly over Crane’s torso. Amber eyes bore into Crane’s. Then Stephen turned around, bracing against the train cart, pushing his inviting ass against Crane’s quivering erection. 

Crane nearly tore Stephen’s trousers getting them off. He’d never felt so urgent in all his life. He barely spared a moment to get himself slick before he took Stephen, slamming him against the wall of the train cart from the first thrust. 

“You tricky little devil,” Crane rasped. His hips were still moving, breath ragged, body reverberating with the memory of champagne hands. “You think you can tease like that and be rewarded for it?” He leaned forward to place a hand on Stephen’s throat. Crane set his mouth right at Stephen’s ear. “You better hope I forgive you for that.”

“I do, my lord,” Stephen said and his voice was so sweetly whimpering, so yielding that Crane felt his desire to draw this out cracking already. 

“Is this what you meant to have happen the whole time?” Crane said. “Rile me up so I’d fuck you against a wall? Hm? Did you think those hands were going to make me so senseless you could just have your way?” 

“Y-yes, my lord, yes” Stephen gasped. 

He moved his hand from Stephen’s throat to his cock. For a brief moment, Crane wondered what this might be like in reverse, Stephen inside him, one crackling hand on his cock. 

“Please,” Stephen whined.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me, my lord, please fuck me, please.” 

Crane thought it would never get old, that plaintive, whimpering request, the way Stephen tended to roll his hips as he said it, his body begging just as loudly as his mouth. 

Crane finally obliged. He lost track of whether it was the train making the cart rattle or himself. The squeal of the wheels and thump of the train were insufficient to smother Stephen’s cries as Crane took him right there against the wall, abandoning control, pounding harder with each thrust, biting at his slender shoulder as the tension built. 

Stephen clenched around him. It’d hardly been 24 hours, but already Crane could read the shift in the other man. He stroked. His hands weren’t magical, but they proved sufficient anyway and soon Stephen was spilling hot over them, arching, throwing his head back as a cry burst from his throat. 

Crane pinned a hip down against him. He pressed his face against Stephen’s neck, breathing him in, licking at his sweat, getting as close to him as he possibly could as he filled his ass.

They remained that way a moment, jolted by the motion of the train and the echoes of their pleasure. Then they sank down, missing the seat entirely and ending up on the floor, messy and sweaty and exhausted as they lay against each other. 

The crackle of Stephen’s hands was calmer now as he trailed them over Crane’s chest, fingers meandering without direction, sizzling on Crane’s skin. 

Crane took the hand trailing across his chest, lifting it to his mouth. When he kissed Stephen’s fingers, the sizzle sparked more brightly for a moment, sending tingles down his throat. 

“It wasn’t too much?” Stephen said.

“Far from it,” Crane said. “I can think of several other uses for these hands of yours, in fact.”

That lit a spark of interest in Stephen’s tawny eyes. “Oh?”

“Insatiable,” Crane muttered with a smirk. “We’ll discover them all in due time. I promise.” 

“In due time,” Stephen said. 

His voice fell as he spoke, leaving them in a silence Crane didn’t want to contemplate. He knew the word looming over them – China – but neither dared speak it. Not today. Not here. 

All in due time.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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